


The Confessional

by mishacollins_is_my_love



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Priests, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Priest Castiel (Supernatural), WIP, not finished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 13:47:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishacollins_is_my_love/pseuds/mishacollins_is_my_love
Summary: A normal morning sermon changes for Castiel with the appearance of man who is looking for an outlet to unburden himself. Can this man be saved from himself?





	The Confessional

**Author's Note:**

> This is an INCOMPLETE work. I'm posting it not to be an asshole, but to receive feedback. I want to know if i should continue it or move on. It is meant to head in an angsty direction and not a sexual one. Please let me know your thoughts.

Morning mass is running a little long today. I was hoping to be done by 10, at the latest, so I could commence with the first round of confessions for the day. I suppose that doesn’t seem possible now that I have stumbled myself into one of my more controversial sermons. I’m not sure how this topic was brought up today, but dissecting the ideology of homosexuality has taken up a large portion of today's time. The Catholic Church tends to be very close-minded and often mistakenly cruel towards homosexuals, so I intend to bring more understanding to my patrons and to let them know where I stand on the topic. I hope me doing so, provides a safe place for many frightened people in the world. Hopefully, however, the people are still willing to stay a little longer than usual for the confessions after mass. I surely hope I won’t have to cancel for the day.  
As I continue to preach to my hesitant brothers and sisters, an unfamiliar face draws my attention. The majority of my congregation are regulars, although a small few have chosen to leave after learning of my believe in acceptance. Here, however, sits a man I have never seen before, hidden in the back row, tucked away from all the others. The first thing I notice about the stranger, are his eyes. The distance that separates us has failed to conceal the startling color, of which alone makes my breathing stutter. The rich green color is so mesmerizing, I feel myself being taken aback to my time spent in Ireland, during my apprenticeship with the Irish Priests. The fresh morning grass, of which I spent most of my time admiring, bares a familiar resemblance to that of this man’s eye color. The depth behind them, however, is sending chills up my spine, tickling each vertebrae. They come across as shielded and guarded to the outside world, yet I can still sense something in them, something almost sorrowful. Pulling myself from his eyes, I finally become aware of the face of this man. He is rough-looking with tan skin and dirty, golden hair. I can almost see a light sprinkling of freckles across the man’s face but the pews between us conceal them well. This man is, most definitely, a beautiful work of God.

As I focused my attention back on my sermon, I become aware of the deafening silence left behind. I attempt to backtrack and concentrate on the words leaving my mouth. My gaze, however, could not help but lead me to the man every once in awhile. His head was bowed but he seemed to be soaking in my words, if his eyes flicking up to me every few seconds was something to go by. Being in a church, however, seemed to make the man quite uncomfortable. I suspect this is not a regular occurrence for him.  
The time seemed to drag on longer than usual, more due to me being distracted than the actual topic I spoke of, but eventually it became time for the service to end. As everyone began making their way out the exit, I noticed the same man making no move to leave. Perhaps he is staying for confession. I do not understand why this thought made me both as relieved and anxious as it did, but I’ve decided it’s best not to dwell on it.

Participating in confessions is one of my favorite times of day because if I am able to provide any form of comfort to someone with the Lord, I am glad to supply. The gift of forgiveness can be the very thing a person needs to be able to feel lighter and breathe easier.   
Once I cleared the altar of my belongings, I began to make my way over to the confessional. A few people have already lined up, so as I entered, I wasn’t surprised to find one of my patrons already waiting for me.  
As these proceedings tend to go, it was a fairly typical one. The Men and women of my church confessing to their infidelities and lies in hope for God’s forgiveness. Things I’ve, over time, grown to expect from confessions. I do not judge their sins, as it is not my place.  
However, as I finish with the last few men and women, the man with the eyes finally makes an appearance.  
As he lowers himself into a kneeling position, I can see, behind the grate separating us, the hesitance on his face. His reluctance of being here was obvious to the ordinary eye, but the desperation hidden deep within this man can be just barely detected.   
A few brief moments of silence overtakes us and it feels as though it stretches on for hours. Realistically it was most likely a minute or two.  
He clears his throat, which only underlines his nervous energy.  
“I’m not sure how these things tend to go,” he blurts.  
“Well, we usually begin with a greeting and stating when your last confession was, but you don’t strike me as someone regularly going to church or confessing.”  
The man snorts to himself, clearly amused by my observation. “I didn’t realize I was that readable.” A second later he seems to steel himself and guard his emotions, as if to prepare for the worst, before beginning to speak again. “Okay, so I suppose I should just come out and say why I’m here exactly.”  
“Yes that seems like a good place to start,” I retorted while smirking. This man clearly has no insight when it comes to religion. It’s quite endearing to watch him try to figure this all out.  
“...Ok, so I suppose this could be more of a questioning then a confession, i don’t really know.”  
“Many have used this as an opportunity to speak their thoughts without judgement. Do not worry about the mechanisms of this sacrament.” I attempt to placate him, but I can feel my curiosity growing for this man.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

**Author's Note:**

> Repeated note: This is an incomplete work. I'm posting it not to be an asshole, but to receive feedback. I want to know if i should continue it or move on. It is meant to head in an angsty direction and not a sexual one. Please let me know your thoughts.


End file.
